poetry

You are here,

Next to a young man with beautiful hair,

En route to the Bastille, May 13,

One day before the general strike,

Two days after the Sorbonne reopens,

Ten days since the police occupation,

Four months following the riots at Caen,

In the wake of wildcat strikes in Lyons, Longer since the matraquage:

October 17, 1961,

Algerian workers, clubbed to death,

Thrown into the Seine from Neuilly Bridge.

When two bottoms

have it away, they’re battling.

Yesterday, I was reading

Jack Smith talk

about Normal Love.

He says,

“People should caress each other during their quarrels.”

So when two battling bottoms,

have a fight,

butting butts,

they’re fucking.

Between a bottom

and a bottom is

useful negativity.